


Reckless

by HPFandom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, Explicit Language, Multi, Romance, Self-Harm, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-03
Updated: 2005-09-03
Packaged: 2018-09-30 07:01:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10156871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFandom_archivist/pseuds/HPFandom_archivist
Summary: "Why do I hate you?" I whispered into Sirius' neck as he held me.  "Why do you love me?" he whispered back, and suddenly everything that was such a blur to me came into focus.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

**Reckless**

Chapter One

A tear dropped on to my butchered arm, but I wiped away furiously. I never cried. I threw the blood stained razor across the bathroom and it hit the wall. The slits in my wrist that night were much deeper than usual. Blood was pouring out of the cuts and making a puddle on the floor.

I couldn’t take the drunken beatings from my father any longer. This had been the worse yet. He had managed to give me a black eye and a broken nose. I had taught myself at a young age how to do healing charms so broken bones hadn’t been a big deal.

My father had passed out and I escaped, locking myself in this bathroom. I had no idea when he’d be waking up. I tried to stay strong, told myself that I wasn’t scared of anything, but it didn’t stop the fear pulsing through my body. I knew what my father was capable of. He had proven that he was a lunatic when he had driven my mother to kill herself seven years ago.

As I sat trembling in the cold, damp, and lonely corner of my bathroom, I heard a rustling outside the window. I knew who was coming rescue me from this prison cell, but I did not stand. He would reach me quickly enough.

“Annora!” he screamed as the rustling got louder. I didn’t say anything, but instead I scrambled over to where the razor was lying, painted crimson, on the floor. I hastily shoved it into a drawer in the cupboard and pulled my sleeve down over my stinging yet satisfyingly painful arm. He hated it when I did this.

In two seconds time, a handsome and worried face appeared outside the bathroom window. His concern quickly turned to relief as he saw that I was still breathing.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. As I spoke, I noticed how much my throat throbbed. Sirius seemed startled by my question.

“I could hear your father shouting all the way from my house. It was the worst I’d ever heard it, Annora. I had to make sure you were all right. I knew you’d be in here. You always are,” he explained. He was right. “You are all right, aren’t you?”

“I’m fine,” I said quietly, lying just a bit.

Sirius was silent for a moment and I closed my eyes. I determinedly tried to ignore that the pain in my arm was getting more and more severe by the moment.

“Shit!” I heard Sirius shout suddenly. I opened my eyes to see his wide and staring horrifyingly down at my arm. I looked down too, and was alarmed to see that it was bleeding so much it had soaked through my sleeve.  
Sirius climbed through the open window and I watched as he whipped out his wand. I’d never seen him have more control in my life.

He pulled up my sleeve hastily and performed a healing charm. The pain and blood slowly faded to nothing and my body was still once more. It was only then that I noticed how my head was feeling several sizes too big. It throbbed and made my eyes go in and out of focus. I closed my eyes, but that only made me dizzier.

Sirius was looking at me disappointingly.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked, frustration spilled out with every word.

“The pain is such a rush. It’s an escape, a way out.”

“If you need a way out, you can talk to me.”

“Fuck Sirius, you don’t get it!” I yelled. Sirius flinched. “You don’t understand!”

“How am I supposed to understand when you don’t tell me anything!” he retorted. I fell silent. This is why I did not tell Sirius things. He always turned to me with his big grey eyes and acted so paternal. I hated it.

As we looked at each other with eyes like daggers, there was a very loud, familiar rumble that sounded as though it came from a baby troll. I felt the colour drained from my face and saw my ghostly white skin reflecting in the mirror on the wall across from me. Sirius looked confused but his expression quickly imitated mine as he heard the next words spoken, from neither one of us.

“Where are you, you god damn filth!”

My father had risen. 

“Quick, out the window!” whispered Sirius frantically, grabbing my scar-free arm and pulling me up. It didn’t help my agonizing head.

I felt my feet stumble over each other as we rushed to climb out the bathroom window. The thorn bushes in the garden below it made it quite difficult, however, as the sharp thorns stabbed and sliced our legs and arms.

“Come here I just want to talk you filthy whore!”

I felt myself tingle as Sirius wrapped his hands around my waist after his feet touched the ground and lifted me out of the window. My sneakers hit the damp grass and Sirius and I ran, our hearts pounding too hard to hear, until we were around the corner in Grimmauld Place Park. Sirius bent low, his hands on his knees, to catch his breath and I ran my fingers through my long, black, windblown hair. Somehow, that rush had been far better than what the razor provided. 

After Sirius’ deep breaths slowed back to normal, he walked over to me and put a comforting hand on my shoulder. The only sound I heard was the creaking of the old swings blowing in the wind. I expected Sirius to say something protective but he after a few moments he was still silent. I was about to ask him what he was thinking when he stuck out his wand and pointed it at the road.

“What –” But I was cut short as a great ruckus filled my head. It was coming from the street. I turned around and gaped at a violently purple triple-decker bus. A very smart looking teenager came out and recited something off of a card he was holding in front of his bespectacled eyes.

“Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go.”

“The Knight Bus!” I squealed, comprehension dawning upon me. Sirius grinned. “I’ve always wanted to ride this thing!”

The boy was staring strangely at me as though he had never heard of anyone who had never ridden the Knight Bus. He had short, ruffled hair and large sideburns, and even a bit of a beard. His small glasses were perched intelligently on the bridge of his nose. When I continued to stare up at the three levels of the bus, he introduced himself.

“My name is Jeff Granville and I will be your conductor for this afternoon,” he said, pointing to a nametag on his chest. 

“Hi,” I said mildly. “I’m – er – Annora and this is Sirius.” I pointed behind me where Sirius was waiting patiently. 

“Sirius!” said Jeff Granville, just noticing Sirius’ presence. “I was wondering if I’d see you today!”

“Hello, there Jeff. How is it today?” said Sirius warmly. Apparently the two boys were of acquaintance. 

“Not many passengers today. It’s still early, though,” said Jeff. “Come aboard, come aboard.”

Jeff stuck out his hand but I ignored it, brushing past him on to the bus. Squishy couches lined the interior, some witches and wizards having afternoon naps, others reading interesting books. 

Sirius followed me to the back of the bus where there was an empty purple couch and I sat down, watching as Jeff said something to the driver, another bespectacled man who looked like he didn’t know left from right, and we sped off so fast that I would’ve flown off the couch if Sirius hadn’t stopped me with his arm.

“Sirius, how do you know that boy?” I asked him curiously, ignoring the ‘No Smoking’ sign beside the window and stuffing a cigarette into my mouth, lighting it with my wand.

“I use this bus nearly every day to go to the place we’re going now,” said Sirius.

“And where’s that?”

“James Potter’s.”

* * *

Well, please please please read and review. reviews are very important to me and i always reply. thanks.


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